


Taste the sparks on your tongue

by yourbuttervoicedbeau (kiwiana)



Series: Kink!verse [13]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: (I am beyond delighted that that's a tag), Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Blow Jobs, Canon Compliant, Cock Slut, Consensual Kink, Dirty Talk, Episode: s04e12 Singles Week, It's not public sex but it is public... negotiation? Verbal foreplay?, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Masturbation, POV David Rose, Patrick Brewer: Service Top, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Slut Shaming, Teasing, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:01:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25604002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiwiana/pseuds/yourbuttervoicedbeau
Summary: David has been spoken to like this before, during sex, by people who meant what they were saying, and he hated every moment of it. But when it comes from Patrick, who doesn’t have a cruel bone in his body, who is polite and sweet and romantic to a fault…Wholoveshim…It’s, uh, really doing something for him.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Series: Kink!verse [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1768552
Comments: 64
Kudos: 325





	Taste the sparks on your tongue

**Author's Note:**

> I know, I know, it's been a while. For whatever reason writing this was a STRUGGLE and I lost all my porn-writing mojo about 700 words in. Honestly, there's a good chance this wouldn't exist without this_is_not_nothing, who had the genius suggestion when I was wailing and gnashing my teeth to write it as vignettes, as well as all my Rosebuddies for holding my hand and patting my hair while I complained. I got there in the end, and it's thanks to all of you ❤️ 
> 
> Welcome to another kink!verse instalment! Reading the earlier stories is not required (though, as the very biased author I obviously recommend it); they stand alone and are essentially canon-compliant (just with a different first meeting and their relationship being a month longer than canon) so that folks can tap out of any kinks/fetishes/etc that aren't for them as we go. HOWEVER, there are a few references in this one to their first meeting in this universe; you should be fine without reading it, but if you're coming into this fresh and want the context, you may want to read [A focused moment made](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24468184).
> 
> Please assume that if you don't see something being negotiated on-screen, they've discussed it off-screen. Also, just a reminder to please not take your kink advice from fanfic. Do your research first, and not from AO3.
> 
> Title is from Matt Nathanson.

Patrick said  _ I love you _ five days ago, and he hasn’t stopped. 

He doesn’t seem to mind that the words don’t fall as easily from David’s lips, that David only says them back every four or five times. He seems to think the embarrassingly giddy expression David can feel appearing on his face whenever he hears them is response enough, if the way he beams at David every time is any indication. But when David does say them back he gets thoroughly kissed for his trouble; if Patrick is trying some kind of Pavlovian thing, David isn’t ashamed to admit that it’s working.

Patrick greets David with an  _ I love you _ in the morning; ends phone calls with the words, even the two-minute phone calls to check on something store-related while one of them is on the way to a vendor; wheezes them out through a laugh when David does something in the store that amuses him. He whispers them when they kiss goodnight on the nights David doesn’t stay at Ray’s.

And when David does stay over Patrick kisses them into his sweat-slicked skin, gasps them into the silence of the room.

Of course it becomes a problem. 

“I love you,” Patrick murmurs as he comes up behind David, wrapping his arms around him; as soon as the words are pressed into his neck David can feel his dick start to take an interest, the height of the counter his only saving grace. 

“Oh, God,” he groans. “You’ve managed to turn that into dirty talk.”

He can feel rather than hear Patrick laughing, his body shaking against David’s. “You think ‘I love you’ is dirty talk?”

“It is when you say it!” David blurts out as he turns to face Patrick, his voice far higher than he intended. “It is when you kept saying it last night, over and over while you—”

“Mm, yes, I remember,” Patrick says, shifting slightly in a way that lets David know he’s not the only one affected by the memory. “Still, though, it’s not really dirty talk, is it? It’s just words that turn you on.”

David frowns in confusion. “What’s the difference?”

Patrick glances towards the door, clearly checking for any incoming customers before he replies. “Maybe it’s only a distinction in my own head,” he says with a shrug. “But I don’t really think of that — or, say, talking about what we’re going to do — as dirty talk. It’s hot, but it’s not deliberate. To me, dirty talk is more like…” he trails off, clearly groping for an example. “God, I don’t know. Calling someone a desperate little cockslut, or some ridiculous thing like that.”

David’s heart rate kicks up several notches as something unfamiliar and aching curls in his stomach. Because yes, he can see the distinction now. Very clearly. 

“Um,” he starts. “I think…” He can’t seem to spit the words out. 

“Think what?” Patrick prods gently after a moment of silence.

“I’m just trying to… figure something out, here. Can you say that again, please?”

“Say wha— oh.  _ Oh.” _ And suddenly Patrick is gripping David’s face in both hands, holding him close, forcing eye contact. “David,” he says quietly, “you really are a desperate cockslut, aren’t you?” Then he draws back, eyes searching David’s carefully, releasing David’s face but letting his arms hover like they’re ready to provide comfort at any moment. 

David has been spoken to like this before, during sex, by people who meant what they were saying, and he hated every moment of it. But when it comes from Patrick, who doesn’t have a cruel bone in his body, who is polite and sweet and romantic to a fault…

Who  _ loves _ him… 

It’s, uh, really doing something for him. 

The bell above the door chimes, snapping them both out of the moment. 

“I need you to take care of them,” David whispers. Patrick grimaces, but he nods. 

“Sure, if you need a bit of space from me for a minute, I can—”

“No,” David interrupts quickly. “I mean…” he clears his throat, eyes sliding away. “I cannot leave the counter, right now.” 

Patrick glances down. When he meets David’s gaze again, he has a very dangerous smirk on his face. 

“Fine, I’ll look after them,” he says before leaning in to whisper in his ear, “seeing as you’re so greedy for it you can’t even do your job.”

David swallows down a whimper with immense difficulty as Patrick pastes on his customer service smile and steps out from behind the counter, seemingly unaffected.

* * *

David knew there’d be a long conversation about it before they brought it into bed, because Patrick is painfully conscientious about responsible play in a way David never experienced before meeting him. 

He didn’t think that negotiation would happen  _ in the store. _

“So, are you okay with me saying things that aren’t true, or…?” is how Patrick starts the conversation, once the store is empty of customers again following their post-lunch rush. It’s been a couple of hours so David doesn’t immediately parse the question, squinting in confusion for a moment before he realises what Patrick’s asking. 

“Um, yes?” he replies as he straightens the bottles on the table in the centre of the room. “It’ll depend on exactly what you’re saying, I think, there are a few things— hang on,” he interrupts himself as something occurs to him and he folds his arms, trying to look annoyed but not quite managing it. “Does that mean you  _ do _ think I’m a… what was it? Desperate cockslut?”

Patrick appears to be giving the question some serious thought. “I mean,” he says finally as a wide, teasing grin spreads across his face, “I wouldn’t phrase it quite that bluntly, but you do seem to really like my dick.” His eyes are sparkling with suppressed laughter and God, David loves him. Loves that they can make fun of each other like this and not have it mean anything, loves how much care and respect Patrick shows him even as he’s literally trying to figure out the boundaries of exactly how insulting he can be. 

Before he can reply a middle-aged couple are walking through the door, and the discussion is tabled again. 

* * *

“So what about things like ‘pathetic’?” Patrick asks the next time they’re alone, with no preamble, and David frowns down at the box of lip balms in his hand.

“Maybe?”

“A maybe is a no, David,” Patrick tells him seriously and David rolls his eyes, because he’s heard that a dozen times. Only from Patrick, though, which is… anyway. Patrick takes it seriously; David privately suspects there’s a— a formula, a rule, whatever, on Patrick’s sex spreadsheet that  _ literally _ turns a maybe into a no. 

“It’s not that sort of maybe,” he says instead of voicing any of that out loud. “It’s a… I don’t have strong feelings either way and it will depend on what else you’re saying, sort of maybe.” He hesitates before adding, “Desperate probably falls in the same category, actually.”

“Got it,” Patrick says, nodding. “It’s more about what it’s an adjective for, than the word itself.”

“Oh my God, is this kink negotiation or a grammar lesson?”

“Who’s giving a grammar lesson?” Jocelyn asks as she steps through the door. She doesn’t seem to notice the way Patrick’s ears are turning pink, but David does. With a wide grin, he steps through to the stockroom to return the rest of the lip balms to the shelf and leaves them to it.

* * *

“What about slut-shaming?” Patrick asks once they’ve sent Jocelyn on her way with four bottles of massage oil and three tubs of foot cream, which, ugh; David really kind of wishes he’d stayed in the back.

David glances over to find Patrick on his phone. “Okay, I really want to know what you searched to come up with that,” he says instead of answering, enjoying the way Patrick flushes. 

“Is avoiding the question a no?”

David purses his lips, really thinking about it. “I think… if you could figure out a way to do it that wasn’t, like, referencing my actual  _ history, _ I could really like that. I mean, ‘desperate cockslut’ is kind of slut-shaming, right? I just… don’t want to be thinking about anyone else. When I’m with you.” He’s said much more revealing and personal things to Patrick in the past so he doesn’t know why he’s squirming so much, but before he can look away Patrick is walking over, crowding into his space behind the counter.

“I don’t want that either,” he says softly as he presses a gentle kiss into David’s shoulder. “So not actual historical stuff, but calling you a slut, a whore, things like that?”

David shudders as the words wash through him. “Big yes,” he croaks. “And also, I  _ really _ wish I’d worn skirted pants today.” 

“I’m glad you didn’t, this is much more fun for me,” Patrick smirks. “What about teasing you about having to go to a sex club to get laid. Too far?”

“I have no issue with that, but I would point out that you  _ also  _ went to a sex club to get laid,” David says dryly. “So unless you want it turned around on you…”

“Well, that’s a later conversation,” Patrick says with a teasing grin, and David’s pretty sure his eyebrows nearly fly off his face in shock.

“Um, excuse me? Can this be a now conversation?” he demands, but the sound of the bell dashes his hopes.

* * *

“Do you know what I thought, the first time I saw you?” Patrick asks him when the store finally empties out again ten minutes before closing.

“Holy shit, I’m flogging a guy?” he suggests with a raised eyebrow, making Patrick laugh.

“No, before that. The  _ first  _ time I saw you. When I turned around at the bar and there you were.” His voice is soft, nostalgic, and David shakes his head quickly.

“What?”

Patrick bites his lip before answering. “I thought,  _ that guy looks like he belongs on his knees.” _

“Jesus fuck,” David whispers. He tries to make his sudden scurry to get behind the counter look pre-planned; from the way Patrick is laughing at him, it doesn’t work. 

David glances at the clock. 4:52.

“We can close a little early, right?” he asks desperately, already knowing the answer.

Patrick shakes his head, a small smile on his face. “No, I think you can wait.”

It takes David six minutes to calm down enough to be able to leave the counter — not helped by the way Patrick just  _ looks _ at him, leaning back against the shelves on the opposite side of the store. As soon as it’s safe to do so he rushes to the door, hovering beside it as he watches the clock. Patrick can’t stop laughing.

The instant it ticks over to 5:00 David locks the door, flipping the sign before he strides over to Patrick and grabs him by the wrist.

“But David,” Patrick says with a grin, “don’t you think we should—”

“Nope.” He pulls them through the curtain and shoves Patrick against the wall, both hands on his jaw as he kisses him soundly. Patrick moans into it, his hands coming up to grip David’s arms like he’s hanging on for dear life as David grinds into him. He waits until Patrick is more gasping against his mouth than actually kissing back and then he drops his hands between them, working Patrick’s fly until he’s able to shove his Levi’s halfway down his thighs before sinking to his knees. Then he just looks up at Patrick, waiting.

It looks like takes Patrick a moment to focus, but then he grins. “You still look like you belong there,” he says and David smirks back before licking a long, slow stripe up the underside of his cock. He wraps his lips around the head and waits until he can feel hands in his hair, pulling lightly, before he sinks down onto it.

Once he’s got a good rhythm going he reaches down to his trousers, wishing he’d worn something with a slightly less complicated fastener as he fiddles with them but eventually manages to free himself. He can’t help groaning as he finally wraps a hand around his dick and Patrick looks down.

“Fuck,” he moans as David starts to move his hand, the other braced on Patrick’s thigh as he moves his head back and forward. “David, look at you, so fucking eager for it, such a—” his hands tighten. “Such a slut for my cock aren’t you, so fucking hot for it you’ve just got to touch yourself with a cock in your mouth,  _ God.” _ He sucks in a quick breath before continuing. “You’re so fucking greedy for it, aren’t you? The way you sink to your knees at any opportunity, couldn’t even wait to finish up work before you sucked my dick, so fucking desperate to get me down your throat—” 

David has always been good at taking a hint and he relaxes his throat, pulling Patrick down, down down until his forehead is pressed up against Patrick’s abdomen, swallowing around the intrusion. He can feel Patrick’s thigh trembling underneath his hand, knows he’s close and redoubles his efforts, letting his tongue swirl around as far as it can reach.

“David,” Patrick gasps. “David— fuck, I’m—” David pulls back halfway, waiting to feel Patrick explode on his tongue but instead he feels a sharp tug on the back of his head as Patrick pulls him backwards, off his cock, making him whine.

“Sorry, honey,” Patrick pants. “I don’t think you deserve it.” And it’s those words that send David tumbling over the edge, turning his head and sinking his teeth into Patrick’s thigh as he comes all over his hand.

“Jesus,” Patrick whispers, the hand that isn’t still tangled in David’s hair flying to his dick. He looks so close, cock hard and almost angry in its redness, and David settles back on his knees before he closes his eyes and opens his mouth.

He hears Patrick say his name softly, almost reverently from above him and knows Patrick is thinking about the night they met too, how it was just like this. And God, if the David who drove to Toronto to get an itch scratched could see him now, in a store he owns with a man who loves him— 

“David,  _ fuck,” _ Patrick groans, fingers tightening in his hair as David feels the first spurt hit him on his forehead, dripping down to his nose. Then there’s more, his cheek and chin, cheek again, and David can’t see himself but he can feel how he’s covered in it and God, they really don’t do this enough.

He wipes a hand over his eyes before opening them just in time to see Patrick sink to the floor, his back still pressed against the wall. He looks dazed, leaning his head back even as his eyes rake over at David, still kneeling, still covered in come.

“God, I love you,” he whispers, and David musters up the energy to raise an eyebrow at him. 

“Don’t tell me you’re ready for round two already?” When Patrick has finished laughing he adds softly, “Love you too.”

Patrick’s eyes go dark. “Okay,” he says evenly. “I see what you mean about that being dirty talk, now.”

David hums in agreement. “You’re going to have to give me, like, an hour,” he mumbles

Patrick grins at him. “Just enough time to finish closing, then,” he says, and David rolls his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Come and find me on [Tumblr](http://yourbuttervoicedbeau.tumblr.com).


End file.
